This is Earth
by cherishiskisa
Summary: When three of the greatest evils from this world, the next, and every single one in the sky cooperate to bring down the Earth, they seem unstoppable. But there are nine people who can and must now save everything. Supernatural x Doctor Who x Sherlock
1. Chapter 1

"Dude, I don't get it," Dean Winchester said, slamming the laptop shut and pushing it towards his brother. "What's the connection?"  
Sam shrugged. "Don't look at me, man. I'm as confused by this as you are."  
Dean sighed and stood, reaching for his cell phone. "Should we call Bobby? Or Cas?"  
"Nah. Bobby's got his own case to worry about and Cas... Well, you know Cas. Wouldn't want to bother him. Guy's got a war to deal with."  
"If you say so." Dean sat down again and examined the stack of newspaper clippings in front of him. "Anyway. Back to this. Four cities over the past two weeks- Singapore, Mumbai, Chicago, Beijing, and everyone says London's next- half the population gone M.I.A. with deranged witnesses blabbing about giant metal men and flashing lights everywhere? What is this, _Star Trek_?"  
"And all of their banks and stuff have been completely emptied. Practically every single place where more than a thousand dollars were stored is penniless now."  
"Seems like these people, or whatever they are, know what they're doing." Dean stood and paced the tiny motel room. "Why _those _cities, though? That's just so _random_."  
"The only connection I can find is that all these cities are huge. So whoever- whatever- is doing this is going after major urban centers with high costs of living, big airports, business capitols, you know, stuff like that." Sam frowned and clicked away at his computer. "These survivors, though..."  
"What?" Dean said and strode over to stand behind his brother's chair.  
"All of them are in psychiatric hospitals, now, because they all kinda went insane. Or everyone thinks they did."  
"Insane? Insane how?"  
"You know. The standard. Screaming, so-called hallucinations, crying, emotional instability. Some even got violent when they were taken away."  
"Wow." Dean and Sam pondered in silence for a second. "Seems like our kind of thing."  
"Definitely."  
"We got any accounts of what they saw?"  
Sam shook his head. "I've been looking, but I think we'd need to really talk to them in person."  
"Great," said Dean and walked over to the giant duffel bag on the motel bed. In it was a thick wad of fake I.D.s. He flipped through them until he found the two he was looking for- F.B.I. "Chicago, then?"  
"Chicago."

***

"Past two weeks, four cities."  
"Boring."  
"They say London's next."  
"_Boring_."  
"Sherlock!"  
"What? Do you want me to feign interest and then be horribly disappointed when you discover that _I don't care after all_?"  
John Watson put the newspaper down onto the table with a sharp smack and rose to the kitchen for a cup of tea. "Just thought you ought to know that the lives of every single person in this city are in danger. Including yours."  
"Oh, please, " said Sherlock Holmes and un-muted the television. "Who would want to attack, destroy, and brainwash a city like this?"  
"Well, why don't you find out for yourself? Case like this, I'd think it was right up your alley."  
"Quiet, John, the commercial break's almost over."  
John extended his head from the kitchen, tea unfinished, only to find his roommate engrossed in an ad for "Tasty Kitty Nibbles" as he waited for his daytime soap opera to return. "You're bored."  
"Oh, good. Nicely done, John. _Very _observant."  
John rolled his eyes and returned to his tea-making. "I'm just saying. If you need something to do, why not do something good for humanity for a change?"  
"I _am _doing something good for humanity. As soon as this episode ends, I fully intend to write a letter to the television network to get them to cancel this piece of rubbish."  
"Sherlock..."  
"Fine, John." The television ceased to make sounds. "What would you have me do, then?"  
"Well," John said and emerged from the kitchen, bearing a steaming mug of Earl Grey tea and a scone, "something other than torturing me all day by alternating between shooting the wall and watching soap operas. And if that means saving London, great."  
"You know what I'm going to say, John." His finger twitched towards the un-mute button on the remote.  
John sighed. "I do. And I know you find it boring, but-"  
"Yes, exactly, _boring_. Now quiet. Ricardo is about to come home and discover that Evangeline is the mother of his adopted son."  
"So, that's a no on the case?"  
"John!"  
"Sorry, sorry, I'll be quiet..."  
As a woman's sobs erupted from the television's speakers, John Watson stared at the chilling headline on the newspaper and wondered whatever must be done about Sherlock.

***

"Doctor-"  
"I know."  
"London's next, they say."  
"They're right."  
Donna Noble put a hand to her mouth in horror. "We're gonna stop it, right?"  
The Doctor took a deep breath and ran a hand through his spiky hair. "Would that we could. Thing is..."  
"What?" Donna said, a very familiar edge returning into her voice.  
The Doctor shot a guilty glance at her. "I'm not sure exactly what we're even dealing with yet."  
Donna put her hands on her hips. "Are we going to find out?"  
"Of course, of course, just... Just give it a little while."  
"Doctor."  
He looked at her, usually sparkling brown eyes huge and distressed.  
"People are _dying_. _Hundreds_ of people. Dying or vanishing or going insane. Four huge cities already. We cannot wait for London to fall. I won't let you wait. We're going now." And with that, Donna set off around the TARDIS console, jabbing at buttons and pulling on levers at random.  
"No, no, no, no, stop it, don't do that," the Doctor said and grabbed her away from it. "We're going. Now. I promise. Let's just see what's been going on first." He grimaced. "Oh, and I just planned to pop down for a visit... Why can't you humans just keep your news to yourselves sometimes?"  
Donna glared.  
"Donna," the Doctor said, a bit of a laugh in his voice, "I'm joking. And we _have _got a time machine." A pause, and Donna smiled reluctantly.  
"So what do we got, Doctor?"  
"Well," the Doctor said, tugging at his hair again, "four cities. Chicago, Mumbai, Singapore, and Beijing. And London's next. Half the population missing, those left behind nearly insane. Banks empty, almost all the money gone."  
"Those survivors. What happened to them?"  
The Doctor sighed. "They're all in asylums, now. That's what the newspapers say. Apparently, they've seen-"  
He trailed off as he stared at the magazine he'd just picked up from Donna's purse. His thin face paled.  
"Doctor, what did they see?"  
Eyes huge, the Doctor flipped the magazine over so the cover was facing Donna. The headline screamed, _RUMOURED TERRORIST ATTACK SURVIVORS GO INSANE- CLAIM TO HAVE SEEN GIANT ROBOTS KILLING THEIR FELLOW CITIZENS_.  
"Cybermen," he gasped. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, not again, please, not again..."

***

Martha Jones tossed the newspaper across the room and felt a tear, born out of pure frustration, slide down her cheek. Why didn't the Doctor _ever_ answer his phone?  
She turned the news programme on the television off- she wasn't in the mood for a full hour of detailed analyses of grisly scenes- and dialed the Doctor's number again.  
_We're sorry. The number you have reached doesn't have a voicemail box set up so you cannot leave a message. Please call again later_.  
With a growl, Martha pressed the "end call" button and pondered.  
Suddenly, a loud buzzing and chime made Martha jump. It was her phone ringing. Heart beating into her throat, she looked at the screen, ready to yell the Doctor's ear off for ignoring her for so long.  
Her heart sank back into its normal spot again. It was her mother.  
"Hello?"  
"Martha?"  
"Hi, Mum."  
"Where are you right now?"  
Puzzled, Martha looked out of her window. "I'm around an hour's drive away. Why?"  
"Can we have lunch?"  
"What, now?" Martha scoffed. "Since when do you eat lunch at all?"  
"This isn't a joke, Martha. We need to talk."  
"Oh, um, okay, " Martha said, nonplussed. "Yes, sure, we can have lunch. But-"  
"Great. Meet me at that coffee shop that Tish so likes at two."  
"Mum, I-"  
But Mrs. Jones had already hung up.  
Martha stared at her phone for a few seconds, confused. Something was going on with her mother. What, though? She'd never acted like this before.  
Martha shrugged and grabbed her purse. She'd better find out and soon, before anything actually happened to anyone.  
An hour and a half later, Francine Jones whirled into the empty seat across from Martha, visibly shaken.  
"Mum, hi, what's-"  
"Hello, Martha." Mrs. Jones took a deep sip of her ice water and closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair and sighing.  
"Mum, are you alright?"  
"No." She opened her eyes. "Are you?"  
"Well, I-i guess I could be better, but I don't think I'm-"  
"I'm worried sick about you, Martha. Me and Tish and Leo, all."  
"Oh- well, I- um-"  
"But that's not what I asked you here to talk about." Francine smiled sadly. "You've heard, right? About the terrorist attacks?"  
Martha looked away, grim. "Yes. If they were terrorist attacks."  
"Exactly," her mother said. "What with what I've seen..." She shuddered. "You know they say London's next."  
"I have heard that." Martha sighed.  
"So that's why your father and I have decided that it would be best to move the entire extended family out of here."  
"What?" Martha gasped.  
"It's the only way we can be safe from the horrible things out there, Martha. We have to keep each other safe!"  
Martha closed her eyes, incredulous, and took a breath. "The whole family?"  
"The whole family."  
"_Including_ Annalise?"  
Martha's mother wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Yes, even Annalise," she replied grudgingly.  
Martha scoffed. "I never thought I'd see the day when you willingly submitted to spending more time with Annalise."  
"Neither did I," Mrs. Jones replied with a wry smile. "So. What do you say?"  
Martha sighed and closed her eyes. "Fine. But only to keep you safe. I have to stay in London until I reach the Doctor and-"  
"Oh, God, not the Doctor again. Always the Doctor."  
"Mum! He's the only one who can stop this!"  
Francine glared, relenting slowly. "I'm not taking responsibility for this. When you decide to be reasonable, please come help Tish and Leo and I pack our things."  
Martha laughed quietly. "I'll see what I can do." She stood to go, throwing a tenner onto the table. "See you later, Mum."  
"Oh, and Martha?"  
She turned back.  
"Please be careful."  
Martha smiled. "You know me, Mum. I'm always careful."  
And she left.

***

"Pond, when was the last time we went on a proper adventure?"  
"What sort of adventure?"  
"Any sort, really. With a mystery to solve and a childishly lovable enemy to reprimand and a treasure to find and a princess to save?"  
Amy laughed. "Honestly, Doctor, never."  
"No," the Doctor exclaimed, "you're joking!"  
She shook her head. "Not one like that."  
"Well, then, you're in luck! Because I've been waiting for just the right moment to go to this one planet just outside of the Lesser Magellanic Cloud which is an entire planet full of adventures. Really. It's basically a giant amusement park. Except instead of having roller coasters and arcade games, it's got, well, adventures." The Doctor grinned, straightened his bowtie, and started dancing around the TARDIS console, typing in coordinates, pushing buttons, and adjusting settings.  
"And you've been to this planet?"  
"Oh, loads of times. Last time I went, there was a Judoon Empress- very pretty, um, very pretty indeed, obviously- who needed rescuing." The Doctor blushed. "From a gigantic mouse." He chuckled softly to himself. "And to think, all it wanted was just a bit of cheese..."  
"You are making this up, Doctor."  
The Doctor, suddenly serious, looked up at Amy's smile. "Does this look like the face of a man who hasn't been embraced by a rhinoceros-headed woman after escorting an oversized rodent to a dairy farm?"  
Amy considered. "Yes, actually."  
The Doctor winked. "Off we go!" The console room lurched and shook as the TARDIS engine whooshed and whined in protest against being thrown through the time vortex in such a manner. The TARDIS landed roughly a second later, and the Doctor was instantly up and running. "Grab your best magnifying glass for detective work, Pond, and get ready to have the best adventure ever."  
Laughing, Amy ran to the TARDIS doors and flung them open, expecting bright colours and happy things outside.  
She got exactly the opposite.  
"Uh, Doctor?..."  
"Coming, just a second!"  
"Doctor, is it supposed to be so... Scary?"  
Everything was grey and dusty. Smoke billowed from a skyscraper and sirens wailed cacophonously from every direction.  
"Doctor?"  
"Coming!"  
Somewhere, gunshots rang out. Amy flinched.  
"Doctor!"  
"Look, Amy! My very favourite cape. I only wear it on special occasions, and going on an adventure on the Planet of Adventures certainly qualifies, don't you-"  
He trailed off as he saw what was outside.  
A pause.  
"Oh, dear."  
Throwing his cape onto the console floor behind him, the Doctor gingerly stepped out onto the cracked cement beneath them.  
"Wrong planet?"  
"By a long shot." A thought suddenly struck him. He looked around swiftly and terror flooded his face.  
"Where are we, then?"  
The Doctor, wordless, stared in disbelief around them.  
"Doctor?"  
"Amy, this is... This is Earth."  
"What?"  
"This is Earth."  
"Like, a few hundred years into the future? Is this World War Three, Doctor?"  
Full of chagrin, the Doctor looked at her. "Amy, this is now. This is the time in which you live. Not even a month has passed since you left Leadworth in the TARDIS."  
Amy's eyes filled with tears as she joined the Doctor outside. "Where are we?"  
The Doctor sniffed the air. "Mumbai, looks like." He looked around in silence for a few seconds and suddenly jumped. "We have to go."  
"What? Doctor, we have to help these people-"  
The Doctor grabbed Amy's hand and dragged her into the TARDIS. "Amy, I remember this. London is next. We have to stop this from happening any more."  
"Doctor! Wait! Who's doing this?"  
The Doctor turned to her, looking his age. "I'm not sure yet. But I can tell you that we're going to need help to stop them. A lot of help. And I know _exactly_ where to find it."


	2. Chapter 2

"You have delayed."  
"I know, sweetheart, I know. But it's not up to me."  
"We cannot delay any further."  
The demon Crowley, king of Hell, turned and stared straight into the Cyberman's unblinking metal eyes.  
"Well, don't talk to _me _about it." He nodded towards the dark shape in the corner. "Go bother our favourite consulting criminal mastermind."  
The Cyberman turned with a hiss of machinery and clomped over as instructed. "We must proceed with the plan."  
"I'm working on it."  
"We cannot delay. You have delayed this enough. If we do not proceed as scheduled from this point on, you will be-"  
"What, deleted?" A chuckle, equally amiable and terrifying. "Oh, I don't think so." Silence as the robot and man regard each other. "I'm telling you, there's stuff I need to work out before we can- ah- proceed, as you say."  
"Define the parameters of 'stuff.'"  
The man on the floor heard Crowley laugh quietly from the other side of the room and grinned, white teeth flashing in the dark. "The little people have figured out where we're going next."  
"That is not important in the plan."  
"Yes, it _is_, you idiot!" the man said, an edge in his voice that sent a chill down Crowley's spine. "Because if they know what we're doing, they can stop it!"  
"We are unstoppable," intoned the Cyberman.  
And James Moriarty rose from his position on the floor and spoke directly into the Cyberman's expressionless metal face. "I know we are."  
"So," Crowley said, "I hate to break up this sweet heart-to-metal-plate you're having over there, but Jimmy and I have things to discuss."  
Moriarty smirked and darted around the Cyberman, who turned and watched him go on.  
"Seriously? They know who's next?" Crowley asked, incredulous.  
Moriarty sighed. "They think they do. Security on London has increased a hundredfold-" Crowley swore- "and lots of people have been moving away." Moriarty tipped his chair back and grinned at the ceiling. "But no walls can keep us out."  
Crowley shook his head and stood, pacing the underground room. "How many did we get in Beijing?"  
"Not enough."  
"How many?"  
"Nearly four thousand."  
Crowley frowned and whirled back around to face Jim. "How many did you promise us we'd get, Jimmy?"  
"Crowley, if you call me Jimmy one more time, I will have you skinned with silver knives."  
Crowley, visibly shaken by this clearly not-empty threat, said, "I'm sorry, love. It won't happen again."  
"To answer your question, I promised you five thousand." James turned and stood, a smirk still on his face. "Things didn't go as planned, as you know-" Crowley laughed bitterly- "but that was _your _fault."  
"_My _fault?"  
"We agreed that you would do the final stage of herding. The most I can promise to do is get the people in more or less the same area. It was- and is- up to you and the Cybermen to get all of them into the designated place so you can have your little assembly line of souls."  
"Well, then, you need to try harder," Crowley said, voice almost a whisper. "Because clearly that didn't work last time."  
"I could say the exact same words to you and they would make more sense."  
"Rude," Crowley muttered. He heard Jim laugh and grew annoyed. "What's your part in this, anyway? I mean, the Cybermen and I are in this for a reason. Why are _you _here? Perhaps you're just biding your time, waiting for us to get caught so you'll get paid and we'll get locked up."  
James turned and sauntered over to Crowley until they were mere inches away from each other. "I'm doing this because I don't want to be bored." He smiled, and another chill shook Crowley.  
"And this is fun for you?"  
"You can't imagine how much." Jim winked and sat down on a backwards chair, straddling it and pulling out his phone. "Now you go do your little soul-counting thing and I'll deal with London's so-called security."  
Unhappy with being ordered around by this tiny human but secretly terrified of him, Crowley nodded and followed the Cyberman out of the room, hearing James Moriarty's laughter echo behind him.

***

Flashing a badge and a disarming smile, Dean said warmly, "Hi, I'm Agent Hetfield, and this is my partner Agent Hammet. We're here to talk to the witnesses of the terrorist attacks on Chicago."  
The man behind the desk was unimpressed. "Second door on the right."  
"Thank you very much, sir," Dean said and started to walk away when the man said, "Why are you people so interested in these poor people anyway?"  
"I'm sorry?" Sam said, turning back.  
"Third group of agents over the past two days."  
"Oh, it's nothing, just, uh, just a routine check-up," Dean said, charm turned up to maximum. "Making sure that all of our fellow agents got the same story, you know."  
The man nodded, still somewhat unconvinced. "Thanks again," Dean said and, grabbing Sam's arm, set off for the door.  
"Okay, you ready?" Sam asked, hand on the doorknob.  
"As I'll ever be."  
But before Sam could open the door for himself, it was swung in from the other side by a dark-haired, pretty young woman in scrubs. "Can I help you?"  
"I'll sure let you try," Dean said, smiling.  
Jabbing Dean with his elbow, Sam said, "Uh, yes. We're with the F.B.I, here to talk to Ilsa Cameron and Matthew Schlegel about the terrorist attacks here."  
"Can I see some I.D.?" the young doctor asked, ignoring Dean.  
"Sure," Sam said, handing her the badges. After a second's scrutiny, she handed them back, apparently satisfied with what she saw.  
"I'm afraid that Ms. Cameron has been moved to a more intensive care facility in Maryland. But Mr. Schlegel is here." She gestured with her hand to a man sitting alone looking out of a window in the corner of the patients' common area. "He's still pretty traumatised, I mean, after what he's seen..." She shook her head. "So be careful."  
"Of course."  
"Go ahead, then."  
Sam and Dean thanked her again and strode through the door to enter the area, Sam having to stoop a little to clear the low doorframe.  
Matthew Schlegel was a tall, slim man in his mid-20s. Blond, hazel-eyed, slightly aquiline nose, he had a face that had made him very popular throughout his entire life. Business prodigy, he had earned many friends in very high places and clambered to the top of the social ladder, where he had clung until the events that transpired in Chicago. Now, he sat alone. Empty. Terrified. Going nowhere.  
"Matthew Schlegel?" Dean said, familiar fake-agent tones in his voice. The man raised large, shining eyes to him and nodded. Dean and Sam demonstrated their badges, and Dean said, "I'm Agent Hetfield of the F.B.I and this is my partner Agent Hammet. We're here to talk to you about the terrorist attack on Chicago."  
"It wasn't a terrorist attack," Matthew whispered.  
"I'm sorry?" Sam said, leaning in closer.  
"It wasn't a terrorist attack," the man said, voice suddenly clear.  
Dean pulled out a chair across from Matthew and sat down, gesturing for Sam to do the same. "What was it, then?"  
Matthew shook his head and smiled bitterly. "I've already told you people everything. No one believes me. That's why I'm in here, isn't it?"  
"Well, trust us, Mr. Schlegel," Sam said, "we're the guys who'll believe you."  
"What did you see, Mr. Schlegel?" Dean asked, leaning forward.  
Matthew took a deep breath and rubbed his face with long-fingered hands. "It's- it's crazy. I don't even believe it myself sometimes, but..."  
"Please. Just tell us."  
"I saw... Well, I saw giant robot men. Attacking innocent people." The man shuddered and closed his eyes.  
"Where did this happen?" Sam asked.  
"Right outside my office. There must have been thousands of people there."  
"Was it usually that busy?"  
Matthew shook his head. "No. Definitely not. But since so many of them were crying and stuff, I'm assuming that they all got the same message I got."  
Dean raised his eyebrows. "Message? Like, telepathic, or... what?"  
"Agent, how crazy do you think I am?" Matthew said, a smirk playing across his thin lips. Dean widened his eyes a little bit and sat back. "No, an email."  
"What was in the email?" asked Sam.  
Matthew sighed. "A picture of my daughter. She's only three. With my wife Angelina. And there was a note attached and it said... Oh, God..."  
"It's okay, Mr. Schlegel. Just tell us what it said."  
"It said... It said that if I ever wanted to see them again, healthy and alive, I had to be outside my building at exactly 2:30 P.M. on March 18th."  
"The day the attack happened."  
"Exactly."  
"And you took this seriously?" Dean asked, almost smirking. "That's the oldest trick in the book."  
"Do you have family, Agent?" Matthew said, voice ice-cold. "Wife? Kids?"  
Glancing at Sam, Dean said, "Not- not really, no."  
"I figured as much. Because if you did, you would understand that a threat to your family, no matter how cliché, is still the most terrifying thing you can ever see."  
A few seconds of uncomfortable eye contact between Dean and Matthew, and Dean leaned back. "I'm sorry."  
"Yeah."  
Sam cleared his throat. "And, uh, you say that the people outside were all looking kind of distressed? Crying, freaking out?"  
Matthew nodded. "We stood there for a few minutes, not really talking to each other, and then... Then they came."  
"Who came?"  
"The metal men."  
"Right."  
"And... it's all kinda a blur from there, but I think there was a man with them."  
"With them?" Dean said. "Like, they were dragging him along?"  
"No. He looked like he was... _leading_ them or something."  
Sam and Dean exchanged a meaningful glance. "Tell us, what was this man like?" Sam asked.  
Matthew pondered for a second. "He was... short. Kinda round. Raised his eyebrows a lot. I think he could... Well, it looked like he could teleport. And when he talked, he sounded all British."  
"Crowley?" Dean whispered to Sam. Sam's worried look told Dean all he needed to know.  
"Did this man say anything about why this was happening?" Sam asked.  
Matthew shook his head.  
"And what happened after the metal men came?"  
The man started to laugh quietly. "The worst part yet."  
"What was it?"  
A shaky breath. "They formed people into lines and then kinda... laid them down and... reached inside of them and then there were bright lights everywhere and then-"  
"Bright lights?" Dean interrupted.  
"Yeah. It looked like the short British man was holding the lights in his hands and then they'd vanish."  
"The lights would vanish," Sam clarified.  
Matthew nodded.  
"And after that?"  
He pursed his lips. "I blacked out. And woke up a block away, surrounded by dead bodies." He shuddered. "I still dream about them."  
Pity in his eyes, Sam stood. "Well, I think that's all we need to hear."  
Dean joined him. "Yeah, it is. Thank you very much, Mr. Schlegel."  
Matthew nodded at them and they started to walk away.  
"Agents?"  
They turned back.  
"You are going to catch the bastards that did this, aren't you?"  
Dean and Sam smiled in perfect unison. "Of course we are."  
"Good."  
After bidding farewell to the pretty doctor and the security guard, Dean slid into the driver's seat of the Impala and sighed. "What have we got ourselves into, Sammy?"  
Sam looked at him, eyes full of worry. "Crowley working with giant metal robots to collect thousands of peoples' souls?" He exhaled sharply. "I'm not sure we can win here, Dean."  
Dean smacked the steering wheel. "Now what kind of attitude is that? When have we _ever _lost?"  
Sam raised his eyebrows. "Uh, try _all the time_. Also, we've never really faced Crowley like this. Well, we have. But when he was alone and not working with giant robots."  
His brother shrugged and pulled onto the highway. "All right. We need to do some serious research if we're gonna bring these sons of bitches down."  
Grim, Sam nodded. "And stop this from happening again."  
"Exactly."  
Sam leaned over onto the back seat and grabbed a newspaper from his bag. "We could start here," he said, tapping the headline. Dean glanced over.  
"London? Like, England?"  
Sam rolled his eyes and put the paper away. "No, London, Arkansas. Of course, London, England!"  
"Bitch."  
"Jerk." A pause. "You know this means we'll have to fly there, right?"  
"I know," Dean growled. "I am the opposite of happy about it."  
Sam smiled. "Oh, come on. It's just a little-"  
"Shut up."  
And the two brothers drove off into the deep unknown, facing an enemy greater than they'd ever faced before, without a shred of fear of their opponents.


	3. Chapter 3

"So you got the same message I did?" John asked Lestrade, eyes darting from the inspector to Sherlock, who was sitting by the window, plucking at his violin apathetically.  
Lestrade nodded. "As did everyone in my division."  
A quiet chuckle from Sherlock.  
"What?"  
"Nothing."  
"Sherlock..."  
"I'm just trying to put all the pieces together."  
"And how is that going for you?" John asked, mildly irritated by his friend's attitude.  
"Very nicely."  
Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Are you planning to tell anyone what you've come up with? Perhaps within the next few years?"  
But as Sherlock was about to reply, there was a chime from his phone. He glanced at the screen. It proclaimed that there was one new email waiting for him from a blocked sender. He frowned and opened it.  
_Dear, dear Sherlock Holmes,_  
_I'm watching you. If you say a single word to John about this, it's all over for the both of you._  
Sherlock's eyes widened and he scrolled down further.  
_So I have your attention now, eh? Good._  
_I know that Lestrade and his little paper people have all gotten emails just like this one, but trust me- this one is different._  
_Because you deserve to be treated differently, Sherlock._  
_I know that because so do I._  
_Now._  
_You know where you have to be and at what time._  
_And believe me when I say that if you are a second late or breathe a single word of this to any other living soul, your John Watson will live for many weeks as I torture him until his death. I'll take my time. And I'll enjoy it. So. What do you say?_  
_Ha. As if you had a choice. _  
_I shall see you then, Sherlock. _  
"Sherlock?"  
"What?" Sherlock asked, eyes unfocused, as he looked up at John's concerned face, remembering where he is.  
"Are you all right?"  
"Fine," Sherlock said and rose unsteadily from his armchair. "I'll just- I'm going out- be back later."  
"Wha- Sherlock!"  
Sherlock closed the front door behind him and darted into an alley. He knew London better than anyone- no matter how hard they looked, they'd never find him if he didn't want to be found. And being found was the opposite of what he wanted for himself and for John.  
Now.  
To the mystery.  
_Focus, Sherlock, come on. Emotions are a disadvantage_.  
Who could have sent that email? He recognized the style. But it couldn't be him- it couldn't. He was gone. Not dead- not yet- but gone.  
_And just when you think they've left you alone..._  
He had to tell John.  
But he couldn't.  
And for the first time in his life, Sherlock Holmes felt lost and confused and didn't know who to turn because this was all so new for him.  
And the one person he could trust would be put in considerable danger if he told him anything about this.  
Therefore, it was time to do quite a lot of very serious thinking.

***

"I don't understand. Why these people?"  
Moriarty smiled. "Let's just say that they have valuable connections."  
"What sort of connections?"  
He smirked and turned away. "I said. Valuable ones."  
In no mood for games, Crowley frowned and clenched at the air with his fist, sending out energy that started choking the other man and pinned him against a wall on the other side of the room, gasping for air. "Explain." When Moriarty, wincing, didn't respond, Crowley tightened his grip and was rewarded with a gasping wail. "You're taking too much time on this city. Time that, in case you haven't noticed, _we don't have_." He loosened his fist and Moriarty collapsed onto the ground, chest heaving as he gulped at the air.  
"They- Sherlock- I need them to- I-" He started coughing and could not continue for a few more minutes. Crowley waited patiently for him to catch his breath- _these humans, so weak_- and then asked again.  
"Why have you singled out these people and taken up altogether too much of our limited time?"  
A pause. Moriarty slowly raised his head and started to laugh quietly. "So is this how it's going to be, Crowley? I'm your little slave, and the second I stray from the plan, you torture me into submission. That's how it works?"  
Infuriated, Crowley slammed him against the wall again. Spitting out blood, Moriarty was unfazed. "Well, then, Your Royal Highness of Hell, I can tell you that _it's not going to work that way at all._ Anything you can do to me, I've had worse."  
"Oh, I doubt that, Jimmy." And even though Crowley knew that he was the one in power here, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear at the other man's anger as Moriarty glared at him. "So tell me. How _is_ it going to work, then?"  
"I'll tell you why I need these people now and then you will leave me alone to do whatever I think is best for this operation. Deal?"  
Crowley smirked. "Seal it with a kiss?"  
Moriarty rolled his eyes, stood up, hands in pockets, and started to walk away. "Most of them are connected to a man. Sherlock Holmes by name. Calls himself a consulting detective, the only one in the world." He paused, searching for the right words. "He has a mind unlike any other man- well. Except me. And we need him alive because we need his mind. And getting to these people gets us to him. Is that all you wanted?"  
"What about the others?"  
Moriarty turned back around. "What, the Jones girl and her family? And the Nobles?" He smiled. "Ask the Cybers about that one."  
"They're not here right now." Crowley smiled, too. "Now tell me."  
Moriarty sighed. "Oh, you're ever so impatient. But fine. If you must know. Apparently, they're friends of a man. Called the Doctor."  
"The... Doctor," Crowley repeated.  
Moriarty nodded. "They say he's an old enemy of theirs- judging by their description, he's some sort of god."  
"Oh, I've disposed of a fair share of those in my day. What's so special about this one?"  
"Well, for one, the second you kill him, he comes back. Stronger."  
"Same with us, though, right?"  
Moriarty shook his head. "He's also some kind of shapeshifter. Changes his face, body, personality, everything." He took a deep breath. "The Cybers say he can travel through space and time. And that he has this effect on people, kinda like mind control, where they suddenly want to die for him or impress him or do anything at all for him after having known him for five minutes."  
Crowley whistled. "They say how to stop him?"  
"No."  
"Well, then. Let's get thinking before he tries to stop us, eh?"  
Moriarty nodded. "Now go. I have further planning to do. "  
Knowing that arguing would be unwise, Crowley left.  
And that is how the gears began to turn for the battle to start.

***

"Mum, pack your bags and get out of the country."  
"Martha? What-"  
"Just listen to me!" Martha half-shrieked through her tears, tossing a full drawer of clothes into a suitcase.  
"I- all right," her mother said. "Are you okay, Martha?"  
Martha laughed hysterically. "No, Mum, I'm not," she said, and hung up the phone. Another drawer into the bag, and she glanced, almost cowering in fear, at her laptop's screen.  
On it was a photograph taken from behind a plant of some sort of her mother, brother, and sister walking through downtown London. It was unstaged, and very recent- Martha could see Tish's brand new orange manicured nails that she had had done last week. More chilling was the caption, threatening all of their lives if Martha didn't come to a specific point in the heart of London at 2:30 P.M. in two days.  
Another sob wracking her body, Martha slammed the computer shut in an attempt to bar the image from her mind. She had no doubt that she would go to the appointed spot, because she knew that she had to protect her family, no matter the consequences. Family, now that the Doctor was gone, was the only thing she had in her life besides her work, and her work was no family to her.  
_The Doctor_! That was the solution!  
Hands shaking, she opened her cell phone again and dialed feverishly, praying to every deity in the history of time that he answered, just this once.  
A click. She caught her breath.  
"Ah- hello?"  
"Doctor!" Laughing, crying, Martha collapsed onto a chair. "Doctor, it's me, Martha."  
"Martha!"  
She could practically hear his grin over the phone.  
"Oh, but this is brilliant! Say hello, Donna!"  
"Hello," came the muffled reply.  
"Hi," Martha said, wiping away a few more tears. "Doctor, it's great to hear your voice and all, but I actually wanted to talk to you about-"  
"You got one, too?" Donna asked, voice suddenly clearer.  
"Yeah. It was- it was-"  
"Horrible. I know."  
A pause.  
"So are you gonna go?"  
"Of course I am. I-"  
"Martha, Donna, _no_." The Doctor's voice was concerned. "This has to be a trap. I mean, we already know that Cybermen are involved, so-"  
"Wait a second," Martha interrupted. "Cybermen? Like the things I thought you _got rid of_?"  
The Doctor sighed. "They keep coming back. They always come back. No matter how much time passes and how much everything changes, they stay the same."  
Martha frowned. "So I shouldn't go?"  
"Martha, it's a trap."  
"Doctor, this is my _family _we're talking about. I can't just assume it's a trap and not show up."  
"Martha-"  
"They could die and it would be all my fault."  
"She's right, Doctor. I'm going, too."  
There was a silence.  
"Well, Lord knows I can't stop you," the Doctor said meekly.  
"Thank you, Doctor," Donna said, quiet for once.  
"Thanks."  
"Okay, then, Martha- I guess we'll have to meet you there. Or do you need a ride?" the Doctor asked, familiar exuberance returning into his voice.  
"I'll meet you there, I guess. I still have to pack all of my things and get my family out of London safely."  
"All right."  
Martha was about to say her goodbyes and hang up when the Doctor said, "Oh, and Martha?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Good luck."  
She smiled. "Thanks, Doctor. See you around, Donna."  
"You too."  
"Bye."  
"Bye."  
Feeling slightly better, Martha hung up and, after a second, opened her phone again, dialing her mother's number, knowing that she had some serious explaining to do and dreading it.


	4. Chapter 4

"Wait, _what_?"  
"Amy, you heard me the first time. Now, I need to-"  
"Doctor," Amy shouted from across the console room. "Stop. Explain."  
"I _did _explain."  
"Well, do it again." She glared and the Doctor cowered.  
"I- oh, fine. _Basically_, the Cybermen and a demon and a criminal mastermind are all working together to, erm, bring down the entire planet. It's- ah- it's quite a problem, really."  
Amy raised an eyebrow, trying and failing to conceal her horror. "And..."  
"And we have to stop them."  
She scoffed and started making her way down the stairs towards the mushroom-shaped console in the center of the room. "Right. So it's you, me, and the TARDIS against... what, did you say a _demon_? I thought there were no such things!"  
With a worried look, the Doctor said, "So did I," and started adjusting settings on the console. He said something else, but it was too quiet for Amy to hear.  
"Sorry, what, Doctor?"  
"I said," he said, straightening with a triumphant expression, "it's not just us."  
Frowning, Amy asked, "Who else is it, then? What, Rory and River? Oh, brilliant, we are saved." She rolled her eyes.  
"No, it's-" The Doctor paused mid-word. "Although... Rory and River. Hmm. I hadn't thought of that." He pondered for a second. "No, it's a simply _terrific _team. You'll love them. And now, we should-"  
"Doctor," Amy said, throwing an arm in front of the Doctor as he reached for another lever on the console, "tell me who they are."  
The Doctor, sulking, replied, "Me."  
Amy raised her eyebrows so high they seemed to be in danger of flying off her face. "You?"  
He considered. "Well, not _me _me. Me from the past." He gestured vaguely with his hands in lieu of an explanation. "You know, wibbly-wobbly..."  
She laughed bitterly. "So, we're going to stop Armageddon with you, me, the TARDIS, and you?"  
"That was the plan."  
"Blimey, the amount of ego there'll be in this room..."  
"Hey," the Doctor said, face hurt, and flicked up an entire row of switches. "At least there'll be some intelligent conversation for a change."  
Amy raised her eyebrows and looked shocked. "Doctor!"  
He looked up at her and grinned madly. "Next stop, the post office."  
"All ri- hold on. The post office?"  
"I've got to send a message to past me somehow!"  
Amy laughed, not quite sure if he was serious. It was so hard to tell with him most of the time. "And what, you'll address it to 'The Doctor, TARDIS, Space, Time' or something?"  
He smiled at her. "It's a special post office. You'll see." And with that, he gave a very enthusiastic pull on a nearby lever, sending the TARDIS whirling through the time vortex. And as sparks flew everywhere and Amy tried desperately to hold onto a railing, he laughed and yelled, "Geronimo!" at the ceiling, feeling only enthusiasm for everything that was in store for the two of him.

***

"Remind me again exactly _why _you want to come with us?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.  
Wrapping his scarf around his neck, Sherlock replied, "Boredom."  
"Right," John said, unconvinced, and stood, reaching for his cane. "No ulterior motive or anything, then?"  
Sherlock chuckled, bemused.  
"Well," John said, rising from his chair, "let's be off, then. Lestrade and the team said they'd meet me there, so we might as well go now."  
Sherlock nodded and strode out of the door without a further word. John, a slightly confused look on his face, followed him down the stairs and onto the street, only to find that his roommate was already halfway down the block.  
"Sherlock!" John called, attempting to catch up. "What, are we going to walk to downtown?"  
"Any other ideas?"  
"We could call a cab. Eh- taxi!" John said, gesturing at a passing one. It pulled over to the curb and Sherlock, after quickly checking that a serial killer wasn't driving it- Lord knows that happened too many times to him- followed him into it.  
John gave the cabbie the address that the email had specified and the two passengers then rode in silence until they reached it. Nothing needed to be said, although Sherlock was still struggling internally with the thought of telling John that he was in danger. He couldn't find the words and was honestly quite lost.  
He didn't enjoy the feeling, and vowed to be honest next time.  
Hopefully, there wouldn't be a next time, but...  
_It's fine that you didn't tell him, Sherlock. Fine. It'd be too sudden now, with ten minutes until 2:30. You waited a bit long, but it's too late now. But it's okay, Sherlock. It's okay._  
_And remember- emotions are a disadvantage._  
Paying the fare, John left the cab first, looking around him. Hundreds of people filled the streets, although all of them seemed to be going in the opposite direction of the spot John had been directed to go to.  
A buzz from his phone.  
He pulled it out of his pocket and stared at the miniscule white text.  
_Running late, sorry. All is well? _  
John swore under his breath. Of all the times for Lestrade to slack off...  
"Everything alright?" Sherlock asked, taking John's side and watching the frantic pedestrians, furiously analyzing every single one.  
John shook his head, briefly contemplating texting Lestrade back and deciding against it. "Lestrade, with impeccable timing, has decided to be late."  
"I'm not surprised at all," Sherlock said and turned away. "We should go."  
"Oh- yes, of course, yes." And with a final concerned glance at the people going in what seemed to be the wrong direction, John followed his friend into a nearby alley. "So. Sherlock, I-"  
"John. John Watson."  
He turned and looked at the space where the voice was coming from. Standing right behind him was a very tall, very thin young man in a blue suit with energetic hair and a woman, slightly older-looking than him, with bright red hair and glowing eyes.  
"D-donna?" John stammered as she threw herself at him in a hug. "But-"  
"Oh, but this is brilliant!" she exclaimed.  
"John?" Sherlock asked, but he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were locked with the tall man's.  
"Donna and I- we- we went out. In, uh, year eleven." A slightly awkward pause. "So, er, is this-" John said, gesturing to the man, "is this your current-"  
Donna and the man both wrinkled their faces and she laughed. "Oh, no, absolutely not, no. This is the Doctor. He's a- friend."  
"You're not human, are you."  
It wasn't a question.  
The Doctor stared at Sherlock, elements of pain in his eyes. "How can you tell?"  
"You're trying very hard to conceal it. I almost couldn't see. But I worked it out soon enough."  
They appraised each other silently. "I'm the Doctor."  
"Sherlock Holmes."  
The Doctor's eyes widened. "_You're _Sherlock Holmes?" He grinned. "Oh, it is an honour. I've heard so much about you."  
"I'm afraid I can't say the same about you, Doctor." And with a barely disguised disdainful glance thrown the Time Lord's way, Sherlock turned to John. "We should go."  
"We'll go with you!" Donna said, looking pleadingly at the Doctor. "Are you two going to the- the- you know. The _thing_?"  
Sherlock rolled his eyes and muttered something.  
"We are, actually. You'd be welcome to join us," John said hesitantly.  
"Brilliant," Donna said and, with another broad smile, set off after the others, who had already moved on to face the unknown.

***

"I'm assuming we're in the right place," Sam said, looking around him as he and his brother stood off to the side from the overflowing street.  
"Yeah, I think so, too," Dean said, concern in his voice as he looked at the panicked faces of the flood of passerby.  
"So... Should we follow them?" Sam asked, still unsure as to whether or not this was a good idea.  
Dean shrugged. "Seems like they're all going in the same direction, so, yeah." They stepped away from the wall and were about to join the stream when Sam collided with a young woman moving away from where all the others were going.  
"Oh- oh, I'm really sorry, " she said and smiled. She had a melodious English accent and a lovely face. Sam noticed this and smiled back.  
Dean rolled his eyes.  
"No problem, "Sam said. "Hey, uh, since we're here... Are you going to the same place all these people are going?"  
The girl raised her eyebrows. "No, I- I've been told to go somewhere else."  
"Told?" Dean asked, joining the conversation. "By who?"  
"Well, the email," she said, as though Dean and Sam were supposed to know what she meant. "But I'm assuming you didn't get one?..."  
Sam shook his head. "We're not from around here."  
"Yes, well, I can see that," she said and smiled again. "I got an email telling me to be at a certain place at 2:30 today or... Or something bad would happen to my family. So." She sighed. "I don't care if it's a trap. I'm willing to take that risk for my family."  
"Wow," Sam said quietly. "So this place. You said it's not where all these people are headed to?"  
The girl shook her head. "Opposite direction, actually."  
Confused, Sam said, "That's got to mean something."  
"Yeah, that's what I think." The girl squared her shoulders. "I'm going, though. I have to."  
"No matter how dangerous it might be?"  
"Exactly."  
A pause. "We'll go with you."  
"Sam!"  
With a glance at his brother, Sam said, "It's kind of our job to protect people, and-" Ignoring Dean's jabs to get him to shut up, he went on. "And we- think- there might be something dangerous waiting for you there. Actually, we're pretty sure. So, we-"  
"I'm just one person, though," she said, gesturing to everyone else on the street. "What about all of them?"  
"They're our next mission," Sam said, and the girl smiled.  
"All right, then." Glancing at her watch, she said, "We should go. It's nearing time."  
"I'm Sam Winchester, by the way," Sam said, extending a hand.  
"Martha. Martha Jones." They shook hands, holding on for just a bit too long.  
"And I'm Dean," Dean said, "if anyone cares."  
They set off, Sam and Martha slightly ahead of Dean, conversing. Dean, as much as he wanted to annoy Sam by intruding, thought better of it and left them alone. The girl seemed nice enough. Relatively harmless. Why not let Sam have a bit of fun for a change?  
"So you said you went to Stanford?" Martha asked.  
"Yeah, for a little while. And then... I dropped out." Sam looked away.  
"Why'd you leave?"  
Sam shrugged. "Family issues is the best way to describe it, I guess." He took a deep breath to dispel the sudden pain inside at the memory of Stanford and of Jessica. "What about you, Martha? Are you in school?"  
"Just left medical school," she said and grinned. "I'm a proper doctor, now."  
"Not bad," Sam said. "Maybe that'll come in handy later today."  
Face suddenly grim, Martha nodded. "Yeah, I think so." She sighed. "I don't want to say I'm scared, but..."  
"You're terrified, aren't you?" Sam asked softly.  
She nodded. "It's not a feeling I like."  
"I know it well," Sam said, thoughts flashing to all of the horrible things that had been happening lately. "But at least you're not facing it alone, right?"  
Martha stopped and looked at Sam. "You're right. I'm not." They kept eye contact for a few seconds until Sam noticed Dean out of the corner of his eye pretending to gag. Rolling his eyes at his brother, he set off again. Suddenly, four dark shapes darted across an alley in front of them.  
"Hey, Dean?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Be ready, okay?"  
"Gotcha."  
Placing a hand on the gun tucked into his jacket, Sam moved more cautiously. Martha looked at him inquisitively. "What is it, Sam?"  
"I just- I thought I saw some people. That's all. It's probably nothing."  
The shapes appeared and vanished again. Sam's hand tightened on his gun. "Hello?" he said, ready for anything.  
Nothing.  
"Is anyone there?"  
A single shape emerged from the darkness around twenty feet away, silhouetted against a distant wall.  
"Stay back," Sam whispered, but Martha had already started forward, something different in her eyes. "Martha!"  
Voice teary, she called, "Doctor?"  
"Martha? Is that you there?" the shape called in a cheery voice.  
"Martha?" Sam said, unsure of what was happening.  
She turned back to the brothers, smiling through tears. "It's fine. It's- it's a friend of mine." She and the shape both set forward at the same time and met.  
"Hello, Martha," the shape, which was actually a tall, thin man with spiky hair and a blue suit, said warmly.  
"Doctor." She smiled. "Long time no see, eh?"  
He grinned. "Oh, come here." They hugged firmly.  
Exchanging looks, Sam and Dean released their holds on their guns and straightened. Dean cleared his throat.  
"Oh, it's good to see you, Doctor," Martha said and released him. "I'm glad you could come. Where's Donna?"  
"Right here!" called a voice from around a corner.  
"She's tying her shoe, I think," another voice said.  
"Who's that?" Martha asked.  
"Someone who's going to the same place you are," the man said. Looking at Sam and Dean, he asked, "So who are your friends here, Martha?"  
"Oh! Doctor, meet Sam and Dean Winchester."  
"Hiya, Doc, how ya doing?" Dean asked, shaking the hand that the Doctor had extended.  
The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "No, no, don't do the Doc thing..."  
"Sorry," Dean said, not sorry at all.  
"They're here to help, apparently," Martha said. "To help with... You know. What's going to happen."  
"Good," the Doctor said and smiled. "Looks like we've assembled quite the team here."  
Just then, three more people appeared around the corner; a short red-haired woman, a very thin, slightly alien-looking man dressed in black, and a man with a sweater and a cane.  
"Donna!" Martha said, smiling, and the women hugged. "Good to see you again."  
"And you." Eyes alighting on Sam and Dean, Donna's eyes widened. "Who are they?"  
"Oh, uh, that's Sam and Dean," Martha replied, knowing what would inevitably come next.  
Approaching the brothers, Donna smiled. "Hi. I'm Donna."  
"Uh, hey," Dean said, uneasy.  
"I'm John Watson," said the man with the cane. "This is Sherlock Holmes."  
Donna and Martha turned around simultaneously. "What?" Martha gasped. "Sherlock Holmes? _The _Sherlock Holmes?"  
Sherlock, a wry smile dancing across his mouth, nodded.  
"Whoa," Donna said, completely star-struck.  
Confused, Dean asked, "What's the big deal? Who is this guy?"  
Everyone ignored him except Sam, who said, "The best detective in the world, they say. Apparently, he can tell almost everything about you just by looking at you once." He looked at Sherlock admiringly. "I've always wanted to meet him."  
"Everything, eh?" Dean said, somewhat unimpressed. "I'd like to see him try with me."  
Sherlock raised his eyebrows and took a deep breath. "I can tell that your mother died when you were a child, violently. After that, your father went insane over finding revenge, but- ooh, he's dead now, isn't he? So now you and your brother, with whom you have an extremely unhealthy codependence, are trying to track down his killer, who is also your mother's killer. You're an alcoholic who is terrified of commitment. You have one-night stands only for fear of her getting attached and getting hurt when you leave or she finds out the truth about what you do which is- hunting. You hunt things. You're very good with a gun and you're very good with cars. And-" Sherlock squinted in concentration. "How many times have you died, three? Two?" He looked Dean up and down again. "Can't keep a job. Well, never tried to get a job. Dropped out of high school, didn't go to college. You were _furious _when your brother did. Furious and heartbroken. And jealous. And, what's more, you know that your father really never-"  
"That's enough," Sam interrupted, seeing Dean's clenched fists and that he was fighting hard to keep back tears.  
Silence.  
"Son of a bitch," Dean whispered. "How-"  
"It's written all over you," Sherlock said. "You should really work on hiding your past. I'm sure that makes it ever so easy for all of those demons and ghosts and things to get to you."  
Dean's mouth opened in shock but no words came out.  
"Wow," said everyone else in unison.  
Sherlock smirked.  
Dean blinked and turned away.  
Conversations began and Sam pulled his brother off to the side. "Look, Dean, it's okay."  
"No, it's not!" Dean said, still visibly upset by this stranger's violation of his past. "I mean, did you see that? That was- that was, like- I bet he's a mind-reader."  
"He's not a mind-reader, Dean, he just... I don't know. He deduces things based on the way your sleeves are rolled up or something."  
Dean shook his head. "I don't know, man. Whatever it is, it's creepy."  
Suddenly, a loud beeping sound started echoing off the walls of the alley.  
"Someone's phone?" Dean asked, looking around.  
The Doctor, flabbergasted, stared at his sonic screwdriver and psychic paper. The sonic was the one emitting the sound- it was one he'd never heard before. "Someone's trying to send me a message," he said. "Who, though? I'm the only one who knows how to control this technology!"  
"Well, what does it say?" Donna asked, leaning over to take a look.  
"It says... That I need to be here right now. Well, that's helpful." He looked around him. "Whoever sent this should be here any second now."  
Nodding at Sam, Dean drew his gun. His brother mirrored him.  
A loud whooshing noise filled the alley as a wind started to blow. A bright light was flashing a few feet off the ground.  
"No," the Doctor said, eyes enormous. "No, no, no, no, no, this cannot be happening!"  
A tall blue box appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Sherlock looked intrigued, Martha, John, and Donna confused, Sam and Dean prepared to take down this magical teleporting object, and the Doctor terrified.  
The whooshing stopped and the box materialized fully, becoming solid.  
The doors swung open with a creak and everyone inhaled sharply in anticipation.  
Suddenly, a lanky man in a tweed coat and a bowtie sprung out, followed by a very attractive red-haired girl. "Hello, everyone! Looks like you got my message. May I speak to the Doctor, please?"  
After a very tense pause, the Doctor took a step forward, absolutely furious. "Y-you can't do this. I know who you are, and you cannot do this."  
"I think that you'll find that I can. Good to see you again, by the way." The lanky man grinned. "I missed you."  
"Stop it. Stop it right now." The Doctor took a shuddering breath as he tried to control himself. "This isn't supposed to happen. _Ever_. You, of all people, know the consequences."  
"I remember this, and it is." Turning away from the Doctor, the man looked at the people staring, confused, at them. "Oh. Oh, my. Yes, you'll all do very nicely. Now, we have to go. They'll be here any minute now, and-"  
"Hold on a second," Dean said, still holding his gun. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"  
"Did I forget to introduce myself?" the man said, smiling. "I'm the Doctor, and this is Amy."  
A pause as everyone looked from one Doctor to the other and the Winchester brothers stowed their guns.  
"Hi?" Amy said meekly.  
"I thought... _he _was the Doctor," John said, gesturing to the one in the blue suit.  
"He is. The other one is the same man, but from the future," Sherlock said.  
"Same man?" John said. "But he doesn't-"  
"Regeneration," the new Doctor said. "Bit confusing, I'll explain later."  
"Wait, Doctor, this is you?" Donna said. "My, you've really let yourself go..."  
"Oi," the Doctor in the bowtie said, smiling. He looked at Donna, then, and his face changed. Eyes filled with unexplainable pain, he said, "Oh, and it's good to see you, Donna."  
"Uh, thanks, Doctor," Donna said, surprised by this Doctor's strange reaction to her.  
"Doctor, we've got twenty seconds," Amy cried, looking at a stopwatch on her wrist.  
"Oh, really? I thought we had more time. Hmm." He became animated and pushed the doors of the box open. "All right, looks like we'll have to take everyone. Get in, we're almost out of time!"  
Amy went in, and Sherlock followed without a word, although he was simply on fire with curiosity inside. Knowing better than to doubt his friend, John went after him. Sam and Dean, confused, watched as they somehow fit into the seemingly tiny box. Sam shrugged and went in, and Dean did the same after a second or two. With a glance at the blue-suited Doctor, Martha joined them, leaving the two Doctors alone outside of the box.  
"After you," the new one said.  
"I'm begging you," the first interrupted, pleading. "Don't do this."  
"For the planet, Doctor." The new one smiled grimly. "If you don't help me now, it dies. I can see it and I know that you can too."  
The old Doctor's face fell. "I-" He ran a hand through his hair. "I'll never forgive you for this."  
They looked at each other, and the newer one grinned. "Well. That will be a problem in a few centuries, won't it?"  
The older one sighed and, eyes still brimming over with anger, pushed past the other Doctor into the box.  
With a final smile, the new Doctor stepped in and closed the doors behind him.  
"Allons-y, then," he said quietly and straightened his bowtie.


	5. Chapter 5

"Dean, you gonna faint or something?"  
"I- just- give me a moment," Dean said, staring around him.  
Sam smiled. "All right. Just take your time." He turned and went off to join Martha and Donna's conversation.  
"I'm having trouble adjusting, too," Dean heard someone say. He looked behind him. It was John, who was looking equally queasy. "I see unusual things on a daily basis, but this?" He shook his head.  
"Yeah, tell me about it," Dean said and sat down next to John.  
"So what do you do for a living? Sherlock said some absolutely insane things. Surely you don't-"  
"John, I hunt things for a living. Demons, ghosts, ghouls, witches, shapeshifters, vampires, spirits, you name it. If it's evil and hurting people, Sam and I gank it and move on." He smiled. "Quite the life."  
"But... None of those things are real," John said, trying and failing desperately to cling to the last shred of normalcy in his life.  
Dean raised an eyebrow. "Hate to break it to you, buddy, but they're all out there." A pause as John tried to absorb this new information. "What about you? What do you do?"  
"I was a doctor in Afghanistan," John said, "and then I moved back to London and now I more or less work with Sherlock."  
"Doctor, huh? We've got quite the collection of those here." Dean smiled. "What exactly does 'working with Sherlock' involve? Does he just go around and be a dick to people about their personal lives and they pay him?"  
John chuckled. "That's what it seems like sometimes. But really, we solve mysteries, mostly. Murders, thefts, kidnappings, conspiracies, blackmail problems, things like that. He did it by himself until I became his roommate, and he just asked me along one night. We've been working together ever since."  
Dean smiled a little uneasily. "So you two are, uh, toge-"  
"No! No, no, absolutely not," John said, exasperated. "I'm not gay. We are not together."  
"Okay, okay," Dean said, a small smile on his face. "Hey, that sounds really cool, though. Being a detective."  
John nodded. "It is. Pretty dangerous, but-"  
"Oh, don't talk about 'dangerous' to me," Dean said and grinned, getting up. "Hey, Amy!"  
She got up from her spot where she'd been pretending to understand the conversation of the two Doctors and Sherlock and came over to where Dean was standing.  
"Hello, Dean," she said and smiled.  
"So you been travelling with the Doctor long?"  
She thought. "Not very. Maybe a few months? It's hard to keep track of time in the TARDIS."  
"Right, right..." Dean paused. "What does- what does TARDIS stand for, again?"  
"Time And Relative Dimension In Space," she said. "I've met her. She's quite mad."  
"Oh, it's a her?" Dean asked, instantly thinking with fond sadness of his Impala, left all alone at Bobby's. "Nice."  
"Yeah. She's a feisty one."  
"I'll bet," Dean said, looking around the console room again. "Hey, listen, after all this is over, d'you wanna get a drink or something?" He furtively crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping that his charm would work its magic one more time.  
Amy laughed. "Oh, sorry, Dean, I forgot to mention. I happen to be married."  
Dean's eyes widened. "But- no wedding ring. I checked."  
She held up her right hand. "Europe. Different system."  
"Oh," said Dean, disappointed. "Where is he, then?"  
Amy sighed. "Off on holiday, kinda. It's his mum's birthday so he went off for a visit. I stayed behind because- well- I can't stand his mum and she hates me, so..."  
"Got it," Dean said, and, with an awkward smile, went over to join his brother.  
"Nice," Sam, who had been eavesdropping the whole time, whispered to him.  
"Shut up," Dean whispered back angrily.  
"So, Dean," Donna said, staring at him, "Sam was just telling Martha and me about Stanford. Where did you go to university?"  
"I didn't, actually," Dean said and smiled sardonically. "Didn't even finish high school. Didn't you hear Sherlock?"  
"No, I- I did." Donna paused. "He said some strange things, didn't he?"  
Dean and Sam exchanged looks. "Sure did."  
"And were they true?" Donna asked, not quite willing to hear the answer.  
"Well-"  
"Dean!"  
"Sam, we are on a spaceship that is bigger on the inside than the outside with a man that can read minds and the same man at two different points in time. I think these people can handle our lives." He thought for a second. "Hell, we'll be saving the world with them, or something. So may as well come clean now."  
Sam raised his hands in defeat. "Fine, Dean. You'll be the one accepting the consequences, though."  
"Whatever." Dean looked back to Donna. "Yes, most of what he said was true."  
"He said you hunted things. Like, supernatural things," Martha said, incredulous. "Was that one of the parts that wasn't true?"  
"That was one of the parts that was absolutely not untrue," Dean said and smiled. "Sam and I hunt evil things and save people from them. That's our job."  
A stunned silence.  
Martha smiled. "So you're basically like way more violent versions of the Doctor."  
"If it helps you to see it that way, sure," Dean said.  
"What sorts of things do you hunt?" Donna asked with a sort of perverse curiosity.  
"Everything, pretty much. Ghosts, demons, shapeshifters, vampires, and every other foul thing that walks the earth."  
Martha raised an eyebrow. "Really?"  
"Really."  
"Well, I deal with aliens," she said quietly and smiled.  
Dean and Sam exchanged shocked looks. "A-aliens?" Sam asked.  
"The Doctor's not even human," she replied, laughing.  
Dean looked over at the two Doctors and frowned. "He looks it."  
"Yeah, but he's not. And this _is _a spaceship, kinda. We go to other planets and save people." She paused. "Or, rather, we did. When I was still travelling with him."  
"What happened?" Sam asked.  
"I left. It got to be a bit much, you know? I saw the whole Earth torn apart by war and discord and tyranny and I walked it for a year, working on how to save it. My family was abused and the Doctor nearly killed thousands of times. So after we stopped that crisis, I left." She looked at her Doctor sadly. "It was the right thing to do."  
"I'm sorry," Sam said quietly. "What did you do then?"  
She smiled. "Got engaged. Broke it off. Became a doctor, got a job working at U.N.I.T. and have been saving the world on a daily basis ever since."  
Sam looked at her appraisingly. "That's great."  
"It keeps me busy, you know? Keeps my mind off things. And I'm doing good for the world, too." She sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if leaving was the right decision, though..."  
"Hey," Sam said, eyes sad, "it was. I know what you feel like. And, believe me, sometimes I wonder if staying is the right decision." Dean looked at him sharply, but Sam ignored him and continued. "I mean, I could die every single day in a thousand different ways doing what I do. I've actually died once or twice already. But I somehow keep doing it. Even though it destroys me inside. So be happy you got out. Some of us aren't as lucky."  
"Sam..." Eyes huge, Dean stared at his brother, heartbroken and betrayed, and turned away, rejoining John.  
"Dean, I didn't mean-" Sam swore under his breath and looked back at Martha and Donna, apologetic. "Sorry. It's a touchy subject."  
"If you don't want to be a- a hunter," Donna said, "why are you still one?"  
Sam shrugged. "I can't just leave Dean." He looked over at him. "He's my brother. Only family I've got left."  
"But you left before to go to university," Martha said, not sure just how touchy of a subject this was.  
"That was a mistake." Sam sighed. "Well, not a mistake, but... It was the wrong thing to do at the time. My dad and Dean needed me and I just... I just ran off. It was selfish and stupid."  
"But you don't regret it, do you?" Martha asked.  
Sam smiled sadly and didn't answer.  
"How did you start off in this hunting business, anyway?" Donna asked, seeing where this conversation was headed and thinking better of letting it go there.  
"Like Sherlock said. My mom was killed by a demon when I was six months old. And my dad kinda snapped and devoted his whole life to huntin' down the thing that killed her. Dragged me and Dean down with him." Sam sighed. "No one chooses this life. And no one ever leaves it."  
"But you did!" Martha said. "You got out! And then you chose to come back! Sam, if you want to have a normal life, you can have one!"  
Sam looked at her incredulously. "Martha, it's not that simple! I mean, sure, I'd like to settle down and be safe and happy. But how would I sleep at night? Every creak in the floorboards, every rustle of the trees- I'd never stop thinking about everything that hides in the dark. It would be hell for everyone involved." He shook his head. "I've tried. And look what happened. My girlfriend got killed, my dad got killed, my brother got killed- well, he's back now, but-"  
"What you're saying is, you're afraid? You're afraid to leave Dean alone?" Martha smiled. "Sam, he can take care of himself. You're miserable. And you can stop. So why don't you?"  
"You think Dean's not miserable, too? He hates this! He hates everything about this life! And he's tried, too. And he got out. Settled down with a girl, lived for a year like a normal guy. But it didn't work out. Nothing like that ever does. Not for people like us."  
There was a very tense silence, and Martha said, quietly, "I'm sorry."  
"Thanks." Sam took a deep breath. "So what about you, Donna? What do you do?"  
Donna grinned. "I'm a temp. Fastest temp in Chiswick, a hundred words per minute!"  
Sam smiled. "That's quite the speed. How'd you get started with the Doctor?"  
"Funny story," Donna said. "I showed up in the TARDIS one day and he asked me to stay and I said no. Year later, we found each other again and I said yes that time."  
"And you like it?" Sam asked.  
"I love it," Donna enthused. "Well, I mean, sometimes we see horrible things, but..."  
"The highs are worth the lows, right?" Martha asked, eyes bright with the memory of her time in the TARDIS.  
"Exactly," Donna said, and the women smiled at each other.  
"Everyone, listen up, please!" a voice called cheerily from near the center of the room. Heads turned. It was the new Doctor. "It's time we started."  
"Started what?" Dean asked. "I don't think I even fully know what we're dealin' with here."  
"First, let me introduce myself properly," the Doctor said, ignoring Dean. "I am the Doctor, and so is he. To avoid confusion, I will henceforth be known as 'Eleven' and he is now 'Ten.' All right?" Not waiting for an answer, he continued. "In case you haven't noticed, we're dealing with some very serious danger here. I think that if we work together we can stop it."  
"Sorry, what?" John asked, looking around. "Am I missing something? No one told me what we were dealing with."  
Three voices replied simultaneously.  
"Cybermen."  
"Moriarty."  
"Crowley."  
There was a pause as each of the speakers looked at each other. "Who wants to go first?" Ten asked, smiling.  
Dean shrugged. "I will." He stood and looked around at the people in the console room. "Crowley is a demon. He's something like the king of Hell. He's manipulative and dangerous. Sam and I have faced him before, and trust me when I say that he's not an easy guy to beat in a fight." He took a deep breath. "We think that Crowley is collecting souls to add to his little collection in Purgatory, like an army or something. How he's making it happen, we still don't know."  
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Sherlock said, a bit of a smirk on his face.  
"No," Dean said, stiffening, not willing to have another confrontation with this man.  
"Moriarty's doing this."  
"Wait- Moriarty?" John clarified, raising an eyebrow. "I thought he wasn't a problem anymore."  
"Who _is _Moriarty?" Dean asked.  
"James Moriarty is what he calls a consulting criminal. Has most of the English government under his thumb. Blackmail is his specialty. And this- this is exactly his style. Showy. Loud. Puts lots of people in danger. Probably what he's doing is sending all of these people the threatening messages so that they come to the designated time and place. That's where the others take over."  
"Why does he do that?" Sam asked, amazed at human cruelty.  
"For fun."  
A low whistle from Dean. "And this guy's just a regular human? Not a demon, vampire, nothing?"  
Sherlock nodded once. "As far as I know."  
Dean wrinkled his nose. "That's just wrong. I've seen some messed-up things, but this guy takes it to a whole new level." He paused. "And if he's working with Crowley, that's a real problem."  
"Why?" John asked.  
"Well, normally I'd just find him and shoot him dead, but..."  
A sound of disapproval from both Doctors.  
"But if we do that, Crowley'd just bring him back. They're pretty much immortal as long as they're together."  
There was a pause.  
"And there are also Cybermen involved," Ten said quietly.  
"What are Cybermen?" Dean and John asked together.  
"Cybermen used to be human. Then they had all of their emotions taken out and were placed into metal shells. Now all they want is to assimilate as many people as they can, make everyone like them." Ten shook his head. "They're one of my oldest enemies."  
Sudden realization hit Dean as he remembered Sam after his return from Hell, soulless. "And when a person doesn't have a soul, they don't have real emotions or a conscience or anything! That's what Crowley needs them for!"  
"So the Cybermen get their emotionless drones that look like people but really aren't that can get them more people to convert-"  
"And Crowley gets his souls-"  
"And Moriarty gets his fun-"  
"So it's like a sick assembly line of evil," Dean finished.  
Everyone else looked on in amusement as the three men paced the room in a sort of braid pattern.  
"If we take out Moriarty-"  
"Then the people won't come-"  
"But Crowley would just bring him back-"  
"The Cybermen could turn him into one of them-"  
"Making him invincible-"  
"Like all the other people they've turned-"  
Suddenly, all movement stopped as they looked at each other in dread. "All of those people. Those millions of people without souls. What happens to them?" Dean asked. "Doc, is there a way to change them back?"  
The Eleventh Doctor raised his head. "If they'd just had their emotions taken out, sure, in extreme cases. I've seen it happen. But if what you said about this Crowley taking their souls is true, then..."  
"I doubt it," Ten finished.  
"I know little about how souls work, but I'm pretty positive they can be put back inside a person. I've seen that happen, too," Dean said. "But that took a long time. It was painful. And if there were millions of people that needed their souls back?"  
"I'm not sure that would work," Eleven said quietly.  
"So what are we gonna do?" Dean asked.  
"We call Cas," Sam said, and everyone turned to look at him.  
"Who's Cas?" Martha asked.  
Dean smiled. "None of you are going to believe this, but... Cas is an angel. He's an angel of the Lord."  
The two Doctors and Sherlock laughed quietly.  
"Hey, laugh all you want," Dean said, turning to them. "I did at first. And then I died. I was literally in Hell. And Cas raised me from perdition and I'm alive and well today. He can heal and bring back from the dead and kill demons with a single touch. So believe me when I say he's who he says he is."  
Sherlock rolled his eyes and lost interest.  
"How is he going to help us?" Donna asked.  
Dean shrugged. "Just seeing what he knows will be a start. He probably knows a whole lot more than we do."  
"Fine," Martha said. "How do we bring him here?"  
Dean thought for a second. "Doc, where are we?"  
Eleven looked up at a monitor. "Nowhere, really. We're traveling through the time vortex at the moment."  
"Oh." Dean looked at Sam. "Usually, I'd be able to just pray and he'd come, but since we're not really in an easy-to-find place, I think we're gonna need all of us."  
"Need all of us for what?" John asked, still a little bit confused by the idea that everything he didn't believe in was real.  
"All right, everyone join hands," Dean said gingerly. "Time to get a little religion up in here."  
Donna moved over to stand next to Dean and took his hand, smiling at him coquettishly. He looked at her nervously and motioned for everyone else to join.  
It took a few minutes, but eventually all the current inhabitants of the TARDIS stood in a circle, hands clasped, heads bowed, no matter how dubious they were that this would work.  
And they prayed.


	6. Chapter 6

Crowley allowed himself a small smile as he gazed down onto the fruits of his labours. He'd stopped being able to hear the screams a while back, and the lovely white glimmer of souls inside the giant suitcase behind him distracted him from seeing the true horror of what was going on below him. And even though the sight of so much pain outside of Hell repulsed him somewhat, he couldn't help but admire the system.

To the left, the unchanged people entered the long, long hallway where they would be stripped, cleansed, and tranquilized. After leaving there on a conveyor belt of sorts, they were brought into the chambers where they had their souls removed. The chambers, of course, were soundproof.

Originally, Crowley had doubted the ability of a machine to do what he'd previously thought only the King of Hell was worthy to do. But after a few tests, he was satisfied that this odd robot could remove souls from living people and leave them relatively unharmed.

From there, the people and the souls parted ways. The souls were packaged into large leather suitcases covered with embossed symbols and protections and moved away into a storage chamber until needed. The people were sent further along into the conversion pods, where they were injected with the Cybermen's machinery. The injection was actually a nanopod of sorts that wormed its way into the victim's brain and released its wires, strengthening its grip on the human. Once in place, the Cybermen would be able to share thoughts with these people and control every single action they did.

And after that, they were re-clothed in special receptive clothing that recorded all movements and sound waves coming from the wearer- these data would be sent back to the Cybers as soon as they were perceived- and send into a holding area, where they would regain consciousness and wait for all of the others to be converted before being sent back out into the outside world.

And all of this was happening in an enormous facility thousands of miles underground. There had been a minor snafu going in with a dormant race of homoreptilia, but the Cybermen had had no problems with getting rid of all of them quickly.

Everyone who was there was from all of the cities that had been targeted, not just the most recent. It would take a very long time to assemble all of the souls and all of the humans needed for the plan to be complete. And none would be released back aboveground until all were collected.

Crowley grinned and turned away from the process.

"Pleased?" Moriarty said, smiling smugly from a corner, tapping away at a phone.

"Very," Crowley said. "Impressive stuff you've got here, Jimmy. How many British officials did you have to finish off before they gave you the technology you wanted?"

Moriarty looked up at the demon and winked. "Lots."

Crowley frowned slightly and turned back to face the bustling world below him. Talking to Moriarty always left him a bit afraid and feeling uncomfortable. There was just something about him that was wrong.

He heard the Cyberleader clump onto the balcony and begin discussing numbers and plans with James. Crowley tried not to listen. Such things were not of his concern. All that mattered to him was getting his souls. How exactly he got them didn't matter too much.

Once the Cyber had left, Moriarty stood and joined Crowley at the railing separating the balcony from the under-underworld. "So after London, it's Toronto, Sydney, and Los Angeles. Okay? Just thought you ought to know the plan."

Crowley nodded instead of thanking the man and Moriarty retreated back into the shadows.

And the two men watched the world fall in silence.

Silence.

"You said his name was Castiel?"

"Yes."

Another pause.

"How long are we supposed to wait for-"

"Just shut up and pray."

More quiet.

"I don't understand the-"

"Shut up!"

A few minutes passed in a similar vein, and Dean was starting to lose hope. He thought Cas would always come when Dean called. Always. And now, Dean wasn't sure if Cas just couldn't hear him or could and didn't want to show up. Yeah, great time for the guy to develop an attitude.

"Clearly, this is getting us nowhere," Sherlock said and released John and Eleven's hands. "Grow up, Dean."

As other hands began to unclasp in the circle, Dean looked around in desperation. "Look, man, I don't know what happened, all right? He usually always shows."

Sam shrugged. "Guess he's just busy."

"Doing what?" Dean asked sardonically. "When has Cas ever not come when I called?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Uh, try all those times when he was busy fighting a war in Heaven, which is probably what he's doing now." He looked at his brother. "Hey. Don't beat yourself up over it. Maybe he'll show up later when he's not busy."

"Whatever."

Suddenly, there was a sound like the fluttering of mile-high wings and a gravelly voice said, "Hello, Dean."

Trying to suppress the joy on his face, Dean turned and looked. Castiel was standing right in the middle of what had once been the prayer circle. "Oh. How nice of you to join us, Cas."

Cas rolled his eyes almost imperceptibly. "I'm sorry, Dean. I was busy. Fighting a war. In Heaven." He looked around at the stunned faces in the TARDIS. "Now tell me how I can be of assistance."

Before Dean could open his mouth to answer, Amy said from near the console, "I'm sorry, what's going on? I thought your Castiel didn't show."

"Aren't you going to introduce us, Dean?" Donna said, eyes fixated on Cas in a way that made a slightly unpleasant feeling run down Dean's spine.

"Uh, everyone, this is Castiel- Cas. He's an angel."

There was silence and incredulous looks.

"And Cas, this is Martha, the Doctor, Amy, also the Doctor, Sherlock, John, Donna, and you know me and Sam," Dean finished lamely. "Earth's mightiest heroes, type of thing."

"Doctor," Cas said quietly with a nod at the two men at the other end of the console room. "I have heard much of you."

"What, up in Heaven? Oh, give me a break," Sherlock said, losing interest and turning away.

"Yes. All of you, actually. You're becoming quite famous." Cas looked back to Dean. "So what did you call me here for? You have no idea how impossible it was to find you." He looked around. "What is this place anyway?"

Both Doctors spoke up at the same time. "It's a TARDIS." There was a slightly awkward pause as they looked at each other, Ten with slight aggression. Eleven broke eye contact and spoke to Cas with affectionate pride. "A time-space machine, grown in the heart of Gallifrey. Currently, she's traveling through the time vortex at a speed of eighty-nine tetrakerabytes."

"Really? I thought she only went up to seventy-five," Ten interrupted, voice slightly injured.

Eleven smirked. "My... friend River flipped a few switches and now she goes up to ninety-two."

Trying very hard not to be impressed, Ten buried his face in an instruction manual for an icecream maker he'd bought once in the 1980s and didn't say anything.

"I was not aware such things existed," Cas said, unfamiliar with the feeling of being in the dark on something.

"Well, Castiel, I'm sure there are lots of things you're not aware of," Eleven said, feeling more smug by the minute.

Dean frowned, not very happy with the direction this conversation was headed. "Hey, okay, so, Cas. I actually didn't call you here just to chat. I wanted to ask you a few things."

Cas turned away from Eleven and looked at Dean. "What, Dean?"

"I- look, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but-"

"Crowley-"

"Moriarty-"

"Cybermen-"

Everyone spoke at once, and Cas waited with his God-given patience for the humans to finish. After silence fell, he looked at Dean and said, "One person, please. Explain."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Basically, Crowley is working with space aliens and a psychopath to destroy the world."

"I did hear something about that, yes." Cas sighed. "What exactly do you want me to do about it?"

Slightly taken aback by his friend's sudden attitude, Dean said, "N-nothing, really, we just- we just wanted to see what you knew, is all. Probably more'n we do, so..." He shrugged. "What've the angels been saying?"

"Wait, wait, sorry, I'm lost," Martha said, speaking up for the first time since Cas had appeared. "Angels? I mean, I heard what all of you were saying before, but- did I miss the memo or something? I thought angels weren't real."

Dean and Sam both chuckled at that. "Yeah, so did we," Sam said quietly, a hint of a smile still in his voice.

"You're saying they are real, though?" John inquired, asking himself again why he always got himself mixed up in ridiculous things like this.

"Of course they're not, John," Sherlock said bitterly. "You-"

"Really?" Dean said, striding over to Sherlock, in fighting mode. "Then what is Cas, may I ask?"

Looking past Dean, Sherlock appraised the man in the trench coat. "Other than in love with you-" Dean rolled his eyes and Cas shifted- "I- I can't tell." Aghast, Sherlock looked from Cas to Dean, for once at a loss for words. "What is he, then?"

Dean smirked. "He's an angel of the Lord, baby. Better believe it."

Sherlock wished desperately to ask for proof, but there was something in Castiel's steely blue eyes that made him rethink his wish. He cursed inwardly and went off into a corner to sulk.

"Anyway," Dean said, secretly very proud of himself, "tell us what you know, Cas."

Cas sighed. "My knowledge is limited. As I'm sure you've guessed, Crowley and his cohorts don't really want to be found. But we do know something."

"And what is that?"

"We know where they plan to strike next."

The sounds of exasperation filled the room. "Yeah, London, we know, great job, Cas, very helpful," Dean said, sarcastic.

Cas frowned. "No, actually. Well, yes, but after London. We know all the other cities they've marked."

Dean's eyes widened. "Well, that's- great, Cas, that's great! W-what are they?"

"You'll have to figure it out yourselves. Sorry. We only know how to tell which ones they are through a series of conjurings and- I guess you could call it a scavenger hunt."

As Dean huffed and turned away, Ten contributed to the discussion. "How do we start, Castiel?"

"There is a divination ritual of sorts. Sam, Dean, call Bobby and ask him. He'll tell you."

"That's pretty vague," Sam said, phone already out. "I'm sure there are lots of those."

"It's lethal to angels, Sam. If any of us up there were to perform it, all of us would perish. It's dangerous for us even to know which it is."

"So you were lying!" Dean said, incredulous. "You have no idea what cities Crowley and his gang have picked out! You're just as clueless as the rest of us."

Cas turned and stared at Dean. "That's the best I can do. I wish you luck." And with another sound of wings, he was gone.

"Hey, hey, hey, wait!" Dean said, walking forward into the empty space where Cas had just been. "Friggin' angels," he muttered, disappointed.

"Well. That was useful indeed," Sherlock said, rising from the darkness with a smirk on his face. "Your boyfriend sure knows how to help us save the world."

Dean clenched and unclenched his fists and didn't say anything, not sure he could trust himself to talk to Sherlock without punching him out first.

"Hey, we got something, at least," Sam said, ever the peacekeeper. "A ritual."

"Which we don't even know," Sherlock scoffed, "because it's deadly to your feathered friend."

"Okay, so if we do this- ritual," Martha said, "what do we do with what we find out? I mean-"

"We warn the cities," Ten said solemnly. "We tell everyone who's in danger to move out and save themselves."

Nods from everyone in the room.

Cringing inwardly at having to be the one to say it, John stood. "But wouldn't that be something like more than a billion people? How could we possibly save all of them?"

Eleven, a small smile dancing across his face, strode over to the console and patted it fondly. "You'd be amazed at the things this old girl can do." He looked over to Sam and Dean. "We've got quite a lot of work ahead of us. Winchesters- call your friend, the one who knows the ritual. Find it out and what you need to do it."

The brothers nodded and Sam pulled out his phone. Opening it, he frowned at the screen. "No signal, Doctor. How are we-"

"Here," Ten said, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling something out. "This'll fix it." He tossed it over and Sam inserted it into his phone. "Signal everywhere in the known universe."

"Wow. Thanks," Sam said, grinning, and dialled Bobby's number.

"Ten, give me your sonic," Eleven said, still staring at the console but with one hand extended towards the other Doctor. With a small sigh of reluctance, Ten handed it over. Eleven powered both the green and blue devices up and pointed them at the console. "I need to amplify the signal- Amy, Martha, Donna, I need you all to come here and hold this, this, and this lever until I tell you to flip. Now-" he looked desperately at Ten- "I need your help, too. Please. Just this once."

Thousands of emotions played across the old Doctor's face as their eyes met. "For the planet. But not for you."

Eleven smiled sadly. "Alright." A pause. "Now. Ten. You work on breaking down the main exterior firewall and I'll see if I can rewire this bit of faulty circuitry that's causing all our difficulties here. Sherlock-"

"He wandered off," John said, looking slightly lost. "Said he wanted to see how far this place goes."

The Doctors rolled their eyes.

Tossing him another phone-enhancing chip, Ten said, "Call whoever you can and see what you can find out about this Moriarty. Last recorded location, criminal records, anything."

John nodded and started dialling.

And that is how the gears began to turn for the resistance to assemble.


End file.
